


Katabasis

by KivaEmber



Series: Wine Cellar [53]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amaurot (Final Fantasy XIV), Ascians (Final Fantasy XIV), Established Relationship, Implied Relationships, M/M, Magic, Necromancy, Poor Life Choices, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22118182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaEmber/pseuds/KivaEmber
Summary: There is a reason why Prometheus and Necromancy should never mix.Or;A regular (romantic) vacation between two very close friends (with benefits) ends up becoming not-so-regular and filled with more dead bodies than Hades is comfortable with.
Relationships: 14th Member of the Convocation of Fourteen/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch
Series: Wine Cellar [53]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/860528
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	1. Jeduma

Even at night, Jeduma was  _ hot.  _

This was due to a myriad of reasons: the city was built in a place choking with fire-aspected aether, a sun-blasted desert that simmered like a shifting, golden sea on most days. It was also ringed by no less than  _ six  _ volcanoes, all of them very active, and magma ran close to the surface. It sounded like a terrible place to erect a city, but the early Jedumites were uniquely gifted in warding and shielding. It was child’s play for them to divert cataclysmic eruptions, lava jets, earthquakes, sandstorms and all manner of other disasters that came hand-in-hand living in a volcano infested desert. 

They nullified the cons and enjoyed the pros: rich veins of minerals and ore, a defensive position, the sole oasis in a wide-spanning desert that allowed them to be a central trading hub, able to exploit the magma for their famed metallurgy, and, of course, the rich fire-aspected aether for their famous geomancy. While Amaurotines were well-rounded in their arcane education, Jedumites specialised in their narrow school of magic to a very lethal degree. 

However, there was still  _ one  _ drawback to the location. The  _ heat. _

“Stars...” Prometheus groaned, languishing dramatically against their hotel room’s windowsill as he tried not to melt into a useless puddle, “ _ Why _ is the air conditioner spitting out  _ heeeeeeat _ ?!”

“The wind crystal’s absorbed too much of the ambient fire aether,” Hades grumbled, standing on the bed to reach the air conditioning unit above it. He’d managed to pry the plastic casing off and remove the wind crystal responsible for the cycling of cool air to scrutinise it critically. Its mint-green surface had a tinge of orange around its cut edges, “See?”

Prometheus stared at it dully, “This place is cursed.”

“You say that every time we come here,” Hades sighed, recalibrating the crystal’s aether. He shooed away the corrupting influence of fire by flicking small embers off his fingers, slotting the crystal back into the air conditioning unit. 

“That's because  _ every time _ we come here, we get the broken air conditioner room,” Prometheus huffed sourly, “I think they’re taking advantage of us!”

“Obviously,” Hades rolled his eyes, trying to shove the plastic casing back on, gave up when it decided to be difficult, and just magicked it back in place with a lazy snap of his fingers, “They don’t have to pay a contractor to fix things with us about.” 

Prometheus made a face. Paying. Now that was a bizarre concept that still made him trip up from time to time. Amaurot being, well,  _ Amaurot, _ it didn’t engage in economy like the rest of the star. Not to say it didn’t have a currency, it did, but only for  _ foreign use. _ Within the city itself, there was no concept of needing to exchange notes or coins of dubious worth to purchase things, because everything belonged to the collective. It did mean though that if any Amaurotines booked a holiday to any of their neighbours, they had to attend mandatory financial classes and told how to budget their issued stipend to fully enjoy their vacation. 

The stipend varied depending on the city; Jeduma was expensive, but what would get you an ensuite luxury hotel room there would barely get you a hostel room in Xerora. That place was just plain extortionate. 

“Don’t pout,” Hades purred, somehow making stepping off a bed elegant when the air conditioner above finally,  _ finally, _ whirred out delightfully cool air, “Look, I’ve fixed your precious air conditioner. You’re saved.”

“While in the safety of this hotel room, yeah,” Prometheus said, just to be a contrary brat, “But outside…”

He glanced out the window. The view offered a dazzling sight of Jeduma’s nighttime skyline, a glittering sea of stars amongst a backdrop of the faintly glowing peaks of the nearby volcanoes. Amaurot didn’t have a view like it anywhere, he had to admit, even if the night air was painfully hot and dry, like standing too close to a bonfire. 

"Outside is death," Prometheus finished solemnly.

Hades did not seem moved by Prometheus's performance, "Death, hm?"

"Yes."

"Not planning on leaving this room for the whole week?"

" _ Nope, _ " Prometheus said, popping the 'p' and resting his cheek on an upturned palm, "Room service is covered by our budget."

"Ah, what a shame…" Hades sighed theatrically, his hand flicking as he pulled something from his internal inventory. They looked like tickets, glossy and carrying a faint whiff of anti-counterfeit magic, "Because I got these for us, for tonight."

Prometheus eyed them, "What are those?"

"Passes for the annual ornithology conference, with one of the guest speakers being Professor Theia of Zephyrion-"

Prometheus gasped, lurching from his lazy sprawl against the windowsill as he reached for the tickets, " _ Professor Theia?!  _ Hades, do you know how hard it is to get a place in one of her panels?!"

"Nigh impossible," Hades said proudly, teasingly lifting the tickets out of Prometheus's grasping reach, "But not impossible for  _ me _ of course."

So, this was why Hades was so adamant they took their vacation in Jeduma. That sly dog! Prometheus felt such a burst of fondness for him that he blurted without thinking, "I love you."

Hades went pink, "Well, hn. Of course you do."

Prometheus laughed, taking advantage of Hades's distraction to reach up and pluck a ticket from his loose grip. It was genuine. Not a fake. Hades really did get such a coveted ticket just for him…

"So," Hades drawled, crossing his arms and fixing Prometheus with a look. He still was a bit pink, though, ruining the disinterested air he was going for, "Still adamant you won't leave this room?"

Prometheus tucked the ticket away into his internal inventory, "Oh,  _ fine.  _ You've tempted me."

“Good, because otherwise I would’ve dragged you there by your ankles,” Hades said, “I went through too much effort to get those damned tickets…” 

“And I appreciate it, darling,” Prometheus crooned, leaning in to peck Hades on the cheek.

Hades looked very pleased with himself, practically radiating smugness. Prometheus let him have it with a fond smile, casting an eye at the hotel room’s clock, “What time does it start?”

“We have a good two hours,” Hades said, “So you can continue imitating a puddle if you want until then.”

Tempting, but Prometheus was feeling generous now. Hades loved Jeduma, he knew, both for its aesthetics and its various tourist traps, and Prometheus was willing to brave the crowded, hot streets for him before the conference.

“We may as well get something to eat first,” Prometheus said, “You know, explore a bit…”

“I thought you calculated room service into our budget?” Hades asked teasingly. 

“Hey, we can splurge on a night out too!” 

“Fine, fine,” Hades sighed, as if he was doing  _ Prometheus _ a favour! “If you want to eat out, we’ll eat out.” 

This man, honestly. 

“Thanks for spoiling me so,” Prometheus said dryly, flicking his fingers as he manifested his outdoor clothing. Like Amaurot, Jeduma’s fashion tended to lean toward robes, though where Amaurotine fashion was drab and conforming, Jedumite fashion were intricate patterns and swirls on brilliantly coloured cloth. They even had sashes, which Prometheus found quite swanky. 

To suit the fiery theme of the city, Prometheus created robes of crimson, gold and orange, patterned with birds in flight from a hem of curling flametongues. He held his arms out, grinning at Hades expectantly, “Eh? How is it?”

“Flamboyant,” Hades praised (maybe?), snapping his fingers and manifesting something a little more subdued. Black robes, trimmed with white and gold, the pattern a very safe and conservative diamond-esque style. Prometheus rolled his eyes at the dullness of it. 

“You planning to attend a funeral at some point?” Prometheus sniped playfully. 

“Yes, yours,” Hades said, flicking his fingers and sending a gust of wind aether to flip Prometheus’s robes up over his head, “Idiot.”

“ _ Ah! _ Hades!” Prometheus whined, frantically rearranging his clothes, “Aw, you creased them...”

Hades sighed, but he stepped close and helped Prometheus straighten his robes out, brushing his palms flat against his chest. A whisper of aether, smoothing out the creased fabric, Hades’s soul radiating a placid contentment despite the frown on his face. Prometheus took it all in, unable to stop a small smile as he unthinkingly reached out to curl a lock of pale hair around his finger. 

“I prefer you like this, y’know,” Prometheus murmured when Hades curiously met his gaze, rubbing his thumb over that soft lock of hair.

“...? I’m as I always am,” Hades frowned. 

“Mn, no, there’s a difference,” Prometheus smiled teasingly, tugging his hair, “You’re more relaxed away from the city. It’s nice.”

Hades looked like he didn’t know how to reply to that, so Prometheus distracted him with a kiss before he thought too deeply on it. He shouldn’t have said it, in retrospect, but oh well. He just wanted him to know regardless: in Jeduma, in Xerora, in Zephyrion… away from Amaurot, there was always a subtle, positive difference in Hades’s mood and temperament, and Prometheus wished he knew how to duplicate the result back home…

Hades drew his thoughts away with a teasing nip to his bottom lip, and Prometheus purred as he pulled back. He tasted raspberry, “Mm, I like your lip balm.” 

“And you  _ need _ lip balm,” Hades returned in a low murmur, tapping Prometheus’s bottom lip with his finger before moving away, “Your lips are chapped.”

“Hey.”

Hades just smirked at him, the asshole, making a dramatic, flourishing gesture as a small tube of lip balm materialised between his fingers, “Luckily for you, I’m feeling generous. Here.”

“You know, Mentor Metis said it’s unhygienic to share lip balm,” Prometheus said snootily, just to be contrary, but he took the lip balm, “Spreads cold sores and what not.”

Hades gave him such a withering look it could’ve stripped paint, “After everything we’ve done together, it’s  _ lip balm sharing _ that makes you whine about  _ hygiene _ ?”

Prometheus smirked, slowly twisting the lid off the balm, “Cold sores are no joke, Hades. We wouldn’t be able to kiss if I caught one off this! And I don’t just mean kisses on your mouth, I mean kisses on your-”

“Shut up and deal with your chapped lips already,” Hades huffed. 

Prometheus puckered them exaggeratedly, pulling a stupid duckface as he applied the balm. Hades looked on with an expression of such comical disgust, it warmed the cold cockles of Prometheus’s heart. He never tired of ruffling his friend’s feathers, honestly. 

“Mwah!” Prometheus blew a kiss when he was done, grinning when Hades rolled his eyes, “All done.”

“Wonderful,” Hades drawled, “Now…?”

“Yes, yes, don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Prometheus said airily, slipping the lip balm into his internal inventory and tucking his hands into the voluminous sleeves of his robes, “So! Are you wanting to stroll to the high street like a pleb, or are we teleporting?”

“I am not walking in this heat,” Hades sniffed, “Besides, I have the coords of a restaurant from my last visit…”

“Oh~?” Prometheus was instantly intrigued - while Hades could be stuffy and lazy and had boring hobbies, he was a gourmand when it came to foreign cuisines. So, he was pretty much a food guide when it came to these cities, and not once had he led Prometheus astray when selecting a place to wine and dine. 

“Authentic Jeduma cuisine, pricy, but our budget can cover it,” Hades said, reaching out. Prometheus took his hand, allowing him to craft the teleport, “And  _ yes _ , they have mild dishes too, since you’re such a baby with spicy food.”

“I am  _ not- _ ” Prometheus paused when their surroundings warped, whisking them from the cooling surroundings of their hotel room to the stuffy, swelteringly hot atmosphere of  _ outside _ , “-a baby…”

They were standing in the midst of a crowded street, a sudden blare of  _ noiselifesouls _ dazzling him for a moment before Hades’s aether settled over him, dampening the effects. Prometheus shook off the lingering disorientation, tightening his hand around Hades’s as he took in their surroundings. Despite it being night, the street was brightly lit, the looming, angular stone architecture providing a broad canvas for colourful banners and tarps stretched out over the streets, allowing only slivers of the night sky to peek through the gaps. Lanterns hung from anything that could support their distinctive and decorative metal-wrought weight, the flames glittering in a myriad of colours that ranged from white to vivid pink. Then came the people, with their flashy robes and- oh, looked like they added  _ tassels _ to everything since his last visit over a century ago! 

Hades eyed him. 

“Are you going to swoon?” he asked semi-seriously.

“No, I’m gonna melt,” Prometheus groaned, conjuring a fan and theatrically fluttering it, “It must be well over forty degrees… and it’s  _ night  _ too!”

“Jeduma is built on a caldera, which still contains magma in its underground chamber,” Hades said in a tone that implied he had told Prometheus this many times before, “So the heat-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s convective heat transfer, blah blah blah,” Prometheus grumbled, “Still doesn’t change the fact that some lunatic decided to  _ build a city _ on top of a  _ caldera _ . _ ” _

Hades ignored his whining, grabbing his elbow and forcibly turning him to face one of the street’s buildings. It, like all of Jeduma’s buildings, looked as if it was cut into smooth rock, a narrow archway the only thing indicating an entrance. It wasn’t extravagant, the only thing declaring it a restaurant being the word ‘RESTAURANT’ in Jedumite above the arch. 

“Uh,” Prometheus tilted his head, “This doesn’t look like one of your usual haunts.”

“Trust me on this,” Hades said, steering him towards it, “It’s good.”

“Well, you’re never wrong on the matters of food, I suppose…” 

“You make me sound like a glutton.”

“You  _ are _ a glutton! I still remember when we visited that ‘all you can eat’ buffet in Zypherion,” Prometheus huffed, “You practically devoured that poor restaurant out of business!” 

Hades did not seem repentant about eating a business into bankruptcy, “They said they could accommodate Amaurotine appetites and clearly couldn’t. It was false advertising.”

No, they couldn’t accommodate  _ Hades’s _ appetite, who was a locust swarm incarnate with the damage he inflicted on any business’s food stores. But, not wanting to retread an old argument, Prometheus let the subject drop with a roll of his eyes, tucking his fan into his sash. He did wonder where all that food went, though. Hades must immediately burn it off and stash its aether into a surplus reservoir for whatever reason… 

“Well, try not to eat  _ this _ one out of business, please,” Prometheus muttered as they stepped through the archway, “It’d be annoying if we got in trouble with foreign domestic laws again before we went to that conference.”

“Last time was your fault,” Hades muttered under his breath, but Prometheus ignored it. It had not been his fault!

(It totally had been) 

* * *

Luckily, Hades controlled his voracious appetite for dinner. Having placed his trust in him, Prometheus was pleasantly surprised to find that the bland looking restaurant ended up being extremely good. Their budget covered for a last minute private booth, a modest, intimate space that carried the faint scent of incense, walls adorned with the usual colourful banners and flags that Jeduma was so in love with. Hades ordered for them both, since Prometheus didn’t know a damn thing about what was on the menu, and,for once, his friend  _ didn’t _ prank him by ordering something monstrously spicy, but a creamy, sweet type of curry that had Prometheus puzzling over its ingredients. 

“Lychee, it must be,” he mused, cocking his head to the side. Across from him, Hades felt indulgently pleased with himself, “It’s not just coconut, there’s a fruit in there somewhere.” 

“Hm, maybe,” Hades smirked, “Do you want to check the menu-”

“ _ No _ , I can guess it,” Prometheus huffed, though he was rapidly running out of testing samples, his plate being almost licked clean, “Uh, let’s see… definitely coconut, and…” 

He swiped a lingering bit of sauce off his plate, licking it off his finger. Hades’s soul sharpened with interest, and Prometheus hid a smile behind his hand, feigning thought. 

“...mango, yup,” he decided, nodding to himself as he lowered his hand, “Ah, I’ll need to remember that when we get back. Me and Hyth can try and recreate it.”

“In  _ my _ kitchen, no doubt,” Hades drawled, resting his chin on an upturned palm, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. 

“Well, it’ll never be used otherwise if we didn’t raid it every so often,” Prometheus said, “Without me or Hyth, you’d starve or get some cardiovascular disease from conjured junk food.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hades harrumphed, “I’d conjure  _ healthy _ food for myself.”

Prometheus stared at him.

“...what?” Hades straightened up, shifting guiltily, “I would!”

“Two centuries ago,” Prometheus said, very slowly, “When me and Hyth were out of town, you were left by yourself for a year and-”

“What is the point of having powers of Creation if you can’t conjure yourself a cake every day?” Hades protested, but there was a delightful flush of embarrassment threading through his aether, despite his fearsome scowl, “It was only for a year, anyways.”

“Three hundred and sixty five cakes…” Prometheus hummed, “Yeah, that’d be fine, but, Hades, you also-”

“I was  _ busy _ ,” Hades hissed, “I needed the- the sugar.”

“Right,” Prometheus said soothingly, not believing him in the slightest, “Sure you did.”

“As you well know, I was involved in a heavily aether intensive collaboration with Lahabrea, and-”

Prometheus let Hades rant, nodding in strategic places of the one-sided conversation while covertly stealing chunks of Hades’s pitta bread off his plate. Despite calling Hades a glutton, Prometheus knew he could be one himself. He was just more subtle about it. 

Hades didn’t realise the deception until Prometheus got a bit greedy and tried to steal the remaining half of the pitta right out from under his nose, “ _ Prom _ ! You thieving little-”

“It was going to waste!” Prometheus protested as Hades snatched his bread back, “You were just rambling, and it was just sitting there…” 

“See if I ever take you out to a restaurant again, you ill-mannered urchin,” Hades growled.

Yeah, like Prometheus hadn’t heard that exact threat a thousand times already. 

“Okay, fine, I’m sorry,” Prometheus said insincerely, watching Hades practically inhale that remaining piece of bread like he thought Prometheus was going to lunge for it like a starving dog, “Oh, that’s attractive.”

“Schcmmff’p,” Hades said around a mouthful of bread. 

Hades was so stupid, Prometheus thought fondly, brushing the lingering flour off his fingers, evidence of his earlier bread thievery. He was so easy to wind up, to piss off, to get so huffy and passionate - there was just  _ something _ about watching and feeling Hades’s soul blaze and simmer with embarrassment and anger both. It made Prometheus want to rip his stupidly drab robes off with his  _ teeth. _

It was weird. Prometheus knew it was weird. He still indulged in it. 

“You’ve got a bit of…” he said, tapping the corner of his mouth. He grinned when Hades irritably rubbed the crumbs away, “Eheh…”

Hades narrowed his eyes at him, “What.”

“Nothing,” Prometheus leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms high above his head and feeling something pop in his back, “Mmnn… I’m just,” he slouched lazily, “Enjoying myself.” 

“At my expense,” Hades added dryly. 

“At your expense,” Prometheus confirmed. He stretched his legs out, nudging Hades’s ankle with the side of his foot, “So, where to next? We have a bit before the convention, right?”

“Hm, less than an hour,” Hades confirmed, nudging Prometheus’s foot back, “I’d suggest we go for a wander, but I think you would keel over from heat exhaustion in the first ten minutes.”

“Hey, I have  _ some _ endurance,” Prometheus said, “I can walk for a bit. I’ll just, uh, put a spell on my fan… maybe a dash of ice-aspected aether, to flash freeze the surrounding air…?”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“Eh? What, no, listen, it’ll work. It’ll create snow every time I fan it and-”

“Give yourself thermal shock.” 

Prometheus frowned, “Well, maybe.”

“Can’t Lazarus modulate your core temperature, or something?” Hades said dismissively, “I’d think overheating would come under its areas of concern.” 

“That…” Prometheus paused and thought about it. Well, yes, he supposed… huh, Lazarus could modulate his core temperature, and even adjust his perception to feel cooler than he actually was. He might get sweatier though, which was gross, but… “Oh. Yeah, you’re right.”

“Idiot,” Hades said, but fondly.

“Oh, shush. I just keep forgetting he’s there, most of the time,” Prometheus grumbled. Lazarus was a very good  _ armiger _ like that, dutifully working in the background with such flawlessness, Prometheus forgot he existed. Hades never seemed to, though, not that that was a  _ good _ thing. He never seemed to approve of poor ol’ Lazarus. 

Hades looked like he was going to say something - probably pounce on him for ‘anthropomorphising glorified AI’ - but thankfully held back. This really wasn’t the time or place to have one of  _ those _ arguments. It’d completely ruin the mood. 

“So, walk then?” Hades said instead. 

“Yeah, walk sounds good,” Prometheus briefly checked in on Lazarus, commanded him to keep his body temperature below ‘slowly roasting alive’. There we go, he can now enjoy this date without a pesky thing like hot weather distracting him. 

Problem solved. 

* * *

Without the stifling heat dividing his attention, Prometheus got to really drink in Jeduma’s surroundings as he strolled the streets with Hades. The later it got into the night, the more active the city became, the foot traffic high and all drifting towards the same direction: the night markets. 

Jeduma was well known to be a nocturnal city - during the day, temperatures soared well above fifty degrees Celsius, keeping everyone indoors out of the oppressive desert heat. At night, however, the temperatures dipped and the harmful sun rays were gone, allowing people to conduct their business without being burnt alive. This resulted in businesses predominantly opening at night, with the most popular being the night markets, a wide, long street crammed shoulder to shoulder with stalls and shop fronts, bringing in locals and tourists both as scholars, mages and technologists from world over plied their trade. 

It was incredibly loud - merchants yelling over each other to be heard over the general din, the air thick and buzzing with agitated and excited aether, edging everything with a scent of ozone. It almost gave Prometheus a headache, but thankfully Hades didn’t plunge directly into the main swarm of the markets. Instead they lingered near the entrance, observing the various splashes of colour and sparks of spells staining the ambient aether like spilled paint on a canvas. 

“How these spells don’t kill someone when clashing, I don’t know,” Prometheus mused, eyeing how two neighbouring spells interacted explosively, making the air pop and crackle like a self-contained lightning storm, “Maybe some form of neutralising barrier over the street…?”

“There is  _ something _ here,” Hades muttered, his eyes glinting as he used his Sight to examine a nearby wall, “An ancient ward is inlaid… ah, there.”

Prometheus, who was not gifted in the Sight like Hades, turned to look, but just saw a normal stretch of wall with a plain red banner draped over it, “Hm? Where?” 

“ _ There, _ ” Hades jabbed a finger at the banner, “An ancient keystone from the looks of it. Hm, bears similarities to Scholar Khalil-ur-Rehman’s blueprints for that filtering barrier ward a few centuries ago. Instead of being emplaced by mere intent and words, it requires a physical ‘anchor’, usually multiple arranged in a diamond shape for maximum stability. What they use for the anchor is a secret only their geomancers know, however.”

“Oh, wait, this is ringing a few bells,” Prometheus rifled through his mental library, snapping his fingers in realisation, “Yes! Khalil’s work! I read his treatise on spell anchors. A bit of a laborious way to place a permanent spell, but it packs more power and permanence than just intent…” 

Before long, they were both drawn into a passionate and protracted debate on whether spell anchors were worth the effort of time, if your soul had enough natural strength to construct a permanent spell with less time and preparation. It was… fun. Really fun, even if they had a severe difference of opinion. Prometheus couldn’t recall the last time they debated an academic subject without it being edged with anger and disapproval over his current research. 

“And also- oh, shit,” Prometheus froze, when the light glinting off his watch caught his attention in mid passionate gesturing, “We’re late!” 

“What?”

“The convention! Professor Theia’s panel!!” Prometheus wailed, grabbing Hades’s arm in a panic, “It started ten minutes ago! Ah, I was having too much fun winning our argument-”

“Excuse me,  _ I _ was winning-”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter who was winning!” Prometheus huffed, though, he mentally added it was definitely  _ him _ who was close to winning that debate, “We need to go before all the seats fill up and they close entry! Quick, teleport, Hades! Mush, mush!”

“I’m not a dog!” Hades yelled, but he did, indeed, mush. 

Teleporting on a full stomach wasn’t pleasant, but Prometheus endured Hades’s distinctive ‘warping’ with grim determination, squinting when they went from a brightly lit street, to a more subdued, dignified location. A large, towering building, shaped like a threatening cube with a row of gargoyles snarling over the entryway. Animated gargoyles too, prowling like hungry predators, which garnered his interest for a moment before he focused. No. Professor Theia first. Then the gargoyles. 

“Ugly building,” Hades muttered under his breath. Prometheus elbowed him. 

“Insult it _ after _ we get in,” he hissed, dragging his complaining friend along. The doorway was guarded by a Jeduma official in dark red robes, the patterns swirling over their chest denoting them as a master of geomancy. Unlike Amaurot, there were no masks, so the suspicious look the official was giving them was plain as day. He had a very dark, bushy beard, which weirded Prometheus out some. Amaurotines rarely had facial hair. One of those odd, ancient laws that was never amended. 

“Hello! Sorry, is this the location for the ornithology convention?” Prometheus asked quickly, fighting the urge to just put the geomancer to sleep and run in there before they missed anymore of the panel, “Ah, with Professor Theia…?”

“Do you have passes?” The geomancer asked, relaxing a fraction. 

Hades and Prometheus presented their passes, and after a long, tense moment where the geomancer slowly,  _ sloooooowly, _ checked them over, he nodded and stepped aside. 

“First door on the left,” he said, “Please be quiet when entering the panel, as it has already started.”

“Thank you!” Prometheus trilled, all but hauling Hades in after him by the scruff of his neck. Hades, bless him, endured this treatment with an air of resignation. When Prometheus got into this kind of manic mood, the only way to survive was to go with the flow. 

Inside was a small reception area that split off into various corridors - so there were many ‘first doors on the left’. Thankfully some considerate soul put down signs leading them to the correct one, and Prometheus vibrated with excitement as they quietly opened the door and snuck in. The room was dark, the panel lit, and only a few people glanced their way as they scurried to the last two remaining seats right in the back. 

Success. 

“Ah…” Prometheus sighed, settling into the squashy, comfortable seat as he forced his pulse into something less frantic. The panel was still in the introduction phase, an unknown scholar describing the layout and future panels for the rest of the convention. Behind him were seated other scholars - Prometheus recognised Professor Theia, a friendly looking woman with her hair tied up in a messy bun, decorative goggles hanging around her neck, a common Zypherion fashion statement. The others were a mix of Jedumite, Zypherion, Amaurotine and… oh, huh, a Nhilisian scholar, now  _ that _ was rare, especially in ornithology.

Hades seemed interested in the Nhilisian scholar too, frowning contemplatively. 

“I recognise them from somewhere,” he muttered under his breath, “But I can’t remember where…”

“I didn’t know you dealt with Nhilisus,” Prometheus said quietly, wincing when someone in the row in front gave them an annoyed look. 

Nhilisus, also known as the City of the Dead, was a very  _ unique _ city state that no one was sure how to deal with. No one visited the city - it was barred to outsiders - but a few of their scholars travelled the land, researching the Underworld, death and epidemics throughout the world, to bring that esoteric knowledge back to their city, where they did who knows what. They were easily identified too, by their skull-masks that hid their entire face, their aether carrying the faintest scent of frankincense. Always frankincense. The only way to truly identify individuals were if you were gifted in the Sight like Hades, picking out the unique hues and discolourations of their soul.

“I don’t," Hades said, finally looking away from the scholar in open disinterest, "But occasionally their scholars visit the Akadaemia. Hn, perhaps it's there I remember him from.” 

Prometheus studied the Nhilisian scholar - they were seated at the very end, practically in the shadows, their bone-white skull mask glaring out from a heavy, dark cowl. It gave Prometheus the impression of a grim reaper picking out a victim. He shivered. 

But then Professor Theia stood up, and Prometheus forgot about the Nhilisian scholar entirely, enraptured by his ornithology idol speaking  _ right in front of him _ . Beside him, Hades sighed, and settled in for a nap, the brief curiosity of the elusive Nhilisian firmly put out of mind. 


	2. Gwyn ap Nudd

Prometheus was reminded of the Nhilisian during recess, when the scholar all but morphed out of the shadows of the secluded corner he was resting in while awaiting Hades’s return from the buffet table. Embarrassingly, Prometheus squealed from sheer fright at the unexpected arrival. 

“I thought I recognised you,” the Nhilisian said, unfazed by Prometheus’s comical flail, Their voice was surprisingly unmuffled by their mask, coming out rich and smooth, “Convocation member, titled ‘The Fourteenth’.”

“How did-” Prometheus quickly composed himself, tucking his hands into his sleeves as he mentally checked his surroundings. The secluded corner was quite aways from the main bulk of the convention, a sizeable cloakroom for privacy, soft and dark and soothing on Prometheus’s senses. He loved the convention but, so many people in one setting… even with Hades’s magic dampening the effects for him, it made his head hurt. 

Right now, they were entirely alone. Hades’s soul was a twinkling star in the thick of the crowd. 

“I mean, yes, I’m the Fourteenth,” Prometheus said awkwardly, feeling a flutter of nervousness he quickly squelched, “But, outside of Amaurot, just ‘Prometheus’ is fine.” 

The Nhilisian slowly nodded, the light catching on faint, barely there silvery patterns on their skull mask. Prometheus couldn’t see any eyes in the thin slits of their mask, just dark pits of emptiness. The stink of frankincense was almost overpowering this close, his aether giving Prometheus the phantom impression of handling a limp, dead fish. Subconsciously, his soul retracted, bunkering down from the feeling of… not-right.

“I am the Scholar Gwyn ap Nudd,” the Nhilisian said, “Though just ‘Gwyn’ will suffice. I’m well acquainted with your work.”

“Oh?” Prometheus felt a tinge of hope. This was an ornithology convention, and considering the interests of Nhilisians… oh, perhaps Prometheus would  _ finally  _ have someone to discuss vultures with without the other person expressing disgust over their lifestyle, “I’ve done a lot of work, you’ll have to be specific.”

“The Lifestream,” Gwyn said, promptly crushing Prometheus’s hopes of a vulture-orientated conversation, “It’s only when you took upon the title of Fourteenth that frequent treatises on the subject have been released to the public. ‘ _ The Lifestream and its Collective Consciousness’ _ is especially thought provoking. In fact, it’s a popular subject of debate in Nhilisian circles.” 

“Oh… really?” Prometheus perked up at that, a flush of pride sweeping through him. That paper had a lukewarm reception when he introduced it at the Convocation - it wasn’t openly  _ dismissed, _ but Amaurotine scholars tended to believe the Lifestream was similar to a protozoa, driven by base instinct with no higher intelligence. He was aware his own views and theories on its function and existence tended to be side-eyed more often than not. 

Gwyn nodded, “It is far superior to what Amaurot has released before on the subject.”

Prometheus internally preened. Heh, well, he thought it sounded arrogant to say, but yeah, previous papers released by the Convocation on the subject were subpar compared to his own research…

“Well,” he said happily, soaking up the praise like a parched flower. This recognition was… addicting, “I’m glad it stimulated intellectual curiosity in yourself and your peers.”

Gwyn hummed, deep enough it sounded like a rumble, “A collective consciousness of all those who came before… it’s said you possess the ability to communicate with it coherently?”

“Ah, in a way,” Prometheus scratched at the bottom of his jaw, “It’s more like playing a very complex game of charades with aetherical fluctuations and memory impressions. After a while, you learn the ‘language’, but even then it can be difficult to parse…”

“Even so, it’s remarkable that you are capable of it,” Gwyn praised, “I can say with confidence that you are a subject of  _ extreme _ envy in Nhilisus for it. Any scholar there would sever a chunk of their soul without hesitation, if it meant possessing even a fraction of your gift.”

“Oh, uh, haha, wow,” Prometheus said awkwardly, a little weirded out by such an…  _ extreme _ statement. Probably some weird Nhilisian humour, maybe? “It’s not- I mean, it’s nothing special. Not to the point of, uh, sundering yourself or anything. Hah.” 

“But it  _ is  _ special,” Gwyn said, his tone becoming more impassioned, “Approximately less than six hundred people in the world possess your gift, and even less have the same mastery of it. Many die in early childhood, their souls too weak to withstand the flow of Lifestream energies, and many more suffer intense trauma to aetherical channels, destroying their ability to use magic entirely. A crueller fate, one could say.”

There was a pause, one where Prometheus shifted uneasily on his feet. Gwyn was correct. Of the very few who possessed his gift, the majority of them suffered grisly, violent fates. It was why Mentor Metis had felt so dismayed when Prometheus’s affinity was discovered. 

“You are one of the very few who have survived and  _ thrived _ ,” Gwyn finished, “A once-in-a-lifetime miracle. Any scholar would be foolish to pass up an opportunity to learn from you.” 

“Um…” Prometheus fidgeted, torn between flattered and uncertain. Gwyn’s aether had gained a hungry, covetous edge to it, an edge that made him abruptly aware of how isolated they both were. Yet, at the same time, the purred praise was making him feel all warm and fuzzy, satisfying a thirst for validation he barely realised he’d been enduring. Thought of ulterior motives didn’t cross his mind. He was just hoping Gwyn would compliment him more. 

“I guess, my knowledge is very esoteric…” he said slowly, curling a lock of hair around his finger, “And it  _ is _ because of my gift that I’ve learnt so much on my subject.”

“Yes, I agree. Those of Nhilisus blood cannot possess that gift,” Gwyn said, taking half a step forward, “So, it’s a subject we struggle to examine in close detail, to fully understand. After all, if one is capable of communicating with the Lifestream, where all souls come to rest after their journey to the Underworld, then is it possible to speak to those who died? What knowledge could be drawn from those depths, if only we spoke the same language, on the same plane? We so wish to discover if this is  _ possible _ ...”

Prometheus felt the first few trills of alarm bells- but at the same time- a tinge of… curiosity. He never really thought about that. He knew all souls came to the Lifestream, but they blended and merged into a collective unconsciousness that was nigh incoherent, if you asked it a question that required a structured answer. To pick out, isolate, interrogate a fragment to contain the information you desired, it would require insane amounts of power and focus.

“That sounds… overly idealistic,” Prometheus said carefully, “And impossible. Even if it wasn’t, I lack the power to fragment something as vast as the Lifestream for information interrogation.”

“Have you ever tried it?” Gwyn cocked his head, “Have you determined by yourself that it is  _ impossible? _ ”

“I…” Well, no… 

“While we lack first hand accounts of the Lifestream, Nhilisian magic is well-versed in breaching the line to the Underworld,” Gwyn said, his voice carrying a near hypnotic cadence, “Perhaps a roundabout route would suffice. To follow the path a soul took through the Underworld into the Lifestream, picking up its pieces until you come to its final resting place. That would help in pinpointing the exact fragment to, ah, fish out, as it were, for a communion.”

“You’ve thought a lot about this,” Prometheus said, finding himself legitimately considering the possibility of it all. If they could do that… but, it sounded a bit too close to  _ necromancy, _ which was a very forbidden area of magic to pursue. When you meddled in the dead, you always brought something unwanted back with you, was the saying. 

“Nhilisus is dedicated to unravelling the secrets of Death,” Gwyn said simply, “Not to overcome, but to understand, and to ensure memories and knowledge isn’t lost to the oblivion. We seek a… subtle type of immortality, you could say.”

“Immortality?” Prometheus frowned in confusion, “Huh?”

“When someone dies, their memories and knowledge is lost to oblivion,” Gwyn said, “It sinks into the Lifestream, stripped away until the soul is once again pure, ready to re-enter the reincarnation cycle. But, what if, when one dies, one is reborn, the potential to regain your past knowledge is there, dwelling in the Lifestream? The body dies, the soul is cleansed, but nothing is lost. Your chain of mortality remains unbroken.”

“So, you’re saying, to have the Lifestream as a cloud storage for your past lives’ memories, to be drawn upon when necessary?” Prometheus was intrigued, he could admit that, his curiosity overriding his unease and caution. Normally, this would be when Hades would smack him on the back of his head and tell him to think it through, but, the possibilities of this… 

If someone died, it wouldn’t be the  _ end _ . Just a natural pause while the soul was revitalised in the Lifestream and reintroduced back into the reincarnation cycle. That pause might be years, decades, centuries, but the possibility to see them once more by their loved ones remained. Yet, it very much wasn’t  _ natural. _ It still wasn’t understood  _ why _ ones memories were stripped upon death, what function it played in revitalising a soul. The long term effects… 

“I… don’t know,” he said slowly, indecisive, “The reincarnation cycle isn’t fully understood, and this might disrupt things…” 

“Sometimes, the greatest of discoveries are made by the riskiest of ventures,” Gwyn wheedled, “If this succeeds, no one will endure the grief of loss ever again. All credited to yourself, of course. People will be grateful to you, for delivering them such a gift.” 

For a split second, a very selfish split second, Prometheus entertained that thought. Instead of people viewing his presence or arrival with wariness or uncertainty, they’d be happy and eager. Like with Hades, who was celebrated and adored for his achievements as Emet-Selch, Prometheus could be universally loved too, instead of being trapped under this cursed title, doing a cursed job, and being a source of scary rumours and gossips to make naughty children behave. 

_ I could have that,  _ something selfish and ugly muttered. 

_ ‘Don’t do it, Prom,’ _ he could almost hear Hades saying, and he dithered, teetering between that hungry, starving need for validation, and rational caution. It toed the line of necromancy, he had no idea what he’d drag back with him, but if it went right, he could achieve something  _ magnificent _ … 

Gwyn patiently waited him out, the black holes of his mask stark and deep.

Prometheus’s weakness won, “Well, maybe an attempt-”

“ _ There _ you are,” Hades’s voice cut through, breaking apart the strange, buzzing tension that Prometheus barely noticed settling over them. He jerked away from Gwyn (when did he get so close to him?), feeling flushed and jittery as Hades barged into the quiet cloakroom and levelled the placid Nhilisian a brief look of deep suspicion. 

“I called your name a few times,” Hades scolded Prometheus, seemingly oblivious to his frazzled state, “I was beginning to think you abandoned me to sneak into Professor Theia’s suitcase.”

“I- no, I was, just,” Prometheus glanced at the scholar, wrong-footed, “Uh, deep in conversation.”

“We were debating the Lifestream’s link to the Underworld, Emet-Selch,” Gwyn said smoothly, not seeming ruffled in the slightest when Hades gave him the ugliest stink eye ever, “I’m afraid we got a little too caught up in the moment. It’s an interesting subject, as I’m sure you’re aware. You both must have debated the topic to death between yourselves already.”

Prometheus couldn’t look Hades in the eye at that, the subtle barb cutting home. Hades never debated that topic with him at all, “Uh, yeah.”

Hades, however, was unfazed, “It’s unusual for a Nhilisian to have such an interest in the  _ Life _ stream. I thought your school deemed it a ‘parasitic entity that perverts the renewal of knowledge’, or some rot like that.” 

Gwyn dipped his head, “The more ill-informed side of our teachings, I’m afraid. Recent studies and philosophical revolutions, some penned by the Fourteenth himself, have convinced us to accept the Lifestream as a vital part of the planet’s ecosystem, one we must embrace and respect.” 

“Hmmm…” Hades studied the scholar, like he was an unpleasant insect he found under a rock, while Prometheus tried to contain a pleased flutter of  _ ‘I influenced a whole city’s worldview??’,  _ “What a…  _ sharp _ u-turn in philosophies, that is.” 

“We adjust according to the knowledge evidence gives us,” Gwyn said simply, “Fortune favours those who  _ adapt _ . Those who remain mired in stagnant knowledge are doomed to be left behind.” 

“You sound like a bad Zypherion fortune cookie,” Hades muttered, turning to Prometheus in open dismissal of the scholar. Shockingly rude, but it was clear by the hot bristling of his soul that he was unhappy with the scene he had walked into, “If your debate is concluded,  _ Prom, _ they’re starting the next panel. I know you’ve been eager to leap onto the biodiversity debate.”

“Ah, yes! Yeah, of course, the debate...” Prometheus flustered, though his mind felt a bit too scattered to focus on that. A part of him wanted to stay, to discuss that intriguing proposal with Gwyn for a bit longer but- that would no doubt raise red flags to Hades, and he’d ask and… probably disapprove of the whole venture. Might even intervene to put an end to it before it even began.

_ ‘For good reason!’ _ the part of his conscience that annoyingly sounded like Hades yelled, and he irritably ignored it. Shut up, imaginary Hades. 

“Then don’t let me keep you,” Gwyn said, giving a short, odd bow to them both, “If you wish to continue our discussion, Fourteenth, I will be happy to indulge you. Until then, peace be upon you both.” 

With that, the Nhilisian scholar swept back into the shadows, where he seemingly melted away, his cold, limp aether winking out of existence. Prometheus let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Hm, I turn my back for one moment, and already you go off to flirt with a fellow Lifestream nerd,” Hades sniffed, his tone forcibly light. He was trying to joke, but… he also wasn’t. 

Prometheus felt a hot flush of anger - so abrupt it took him by surprise, “ _ Flirt _ \- we were  _ debating. _ ”

Hades didn’t seem convinced, “You were playing with your hair.”

“So?”

“You only do this,” Hades mimed the action, twirling his finger around a lock of hair, “When you’re trying to be  _ coy _ and  _ charming. _ You were flirting.” 

Prometheus spluttered, absolutely bewildered by this stupid accusation, “First of all,  _ ew _ ! He is  _ not _ my type, and  _ secondly _ if I’m going to run off and flirt with anyone, it’d be with Professor Theia, not some random Nhilisian I met in a  _ closet. _ ”

Hades huffed, his soul bristling like a grouchy hedgehog, “Yet, you seemed to be hanging off his every word, utterly enraptured,” he muttered, “Enough so to  _ ignore _ me calling your name.”

“I didn’t  _ hear _ you,” Prometheus growled, though... that was  _ strange _ . The room wasn’t built in a way to muffle noise from outside, and the door had been open anyways. Maybe Gwyn threw up a privacy ward? They had been discussing not-so-legal magic, after all, “And we were discussing… interesting things about memory storage and reincarnation cycles. You know I never get to debate those in Amaurot so I just… got caught up in it.”

Hades crossed his arms, “ _ Really. _ ”

“Really,” Prometheus repeated sarcastically, “Besides, beyond that… I don’t know, I got a bit of an odd vibe off him. Like I was an interesting specimen he wanted to lock up and vivisect. I mean, not  _ really, _ but, that’s how he came across...”

Hades seemed a bit mollified about that - and disturbed, “Specimen? Hm, I suppose, since Nhilisians are unable to possess that unique trait and it’s already quite rare, you’d be a subject of fascination to them…”

“Yeah, I got the summary about how ‘my kind’ tend to die horribly or get crippled,” Prometheus muttered sourly, “I don’t need a rehash, thanks.” 

Hades’s gaze drifted over to where Gwyn had melted away, then looked about them, his eyes glinting from his Sight. Prometheus had no idea what he was looking for, but whatever it was, it didn’t seem to make him happy. 

“He approached you when I left, didn’t he?” Hades muttered, but it seemed to be a rhetorical question, “Did you introduce yourself as the Fourteenth?”

“No, he already knew who I was,” Prometheus said, relaxing a little now that Hades stopped being stupidly possessive about dumb things, “Which caught me by surprise, since barely anyone knows who I am - as you keep reminding me.” 

“I thought it strange that a Nhilisian would attend an ornithology conference, but I chalked it up to them having a passing interest in your blasted vultures,” Hades muttered, “Hmmm…”

“What?”

“Perhaps it would be wise  _ not _ to talk to him alone again,” Hades said slowly, and fixed him with a look when he opened his mouth to protest, “No, not because I think you’re going to elope with him, idiot. You’re aware of our uneasy history with Nhilisus, right?”

“Uh, vaguely?” Prometheus frowned, “Didn’t they kidnap a bunch of Amaurotine children over ten thousand years ago for something or other?”

“Mhm, ‘specimen acquisition’, they called it,” Hades said grimly, “It was a very long time ago, long enough that it’s considered irrelevant history, but… well, Prom, your circumstances are near miraculous. I wouldn’t be surprised if a Nhilisian scholar decided to be… opportunistic.”

( _ “A once-in-a-lifetime miracle. Any scholar would be foolish to pass up an opportunity to learn from you.” _ )

“Don’t… don’t be silly,” Prometheus laughed off, though he couldn’t help the shiver of unease crawling over him. Hades was being paranoid as usual, right? “First of all, even if they did have plans to capture me, I’m not just going to meekly let it happen.  _ Secondly, _ I think the ramifications of kidnapping a  _ Convocation member _ would be too risky, even for them.”

“Impulsive decisions are not normally rational or well thought out,” Hades said flatly, “Prom, just… for my own peace of mind,  _ don’t _ visit the shady necromancer alone. At least meet him in a public place.”

“Hey, not all Nhilisians are necromancers,” Prometheus said, just to be annoying, but when Hades didn’t rise to the bait, just looked at him steadily, he relented, “Okay, fine. Fine. I won’t meet with him alone.” 

“ _ Promise?” _ Hades stressed, holding out his hand with the pinky extended. 

“Are you kidding me?” Prometheus groaned, “We haven’t done that since we were kids!”

Hades wiggled his pinky from side to side, and with a huff, Prometheus curled his pinky around it. 

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he added sarcastically, making an ‘X’ motion over his heart as he let go of Hades’s finger, “Satisfied?”

“I suppose,” Hades huffed, but his mood was lighter now. He raised his eyebrows, “By the way, I wasn’t lying about that panel just to make your new friend go away. The bids for the biodiversity debate will close in about five minutes or so-”

“What?!” Prometheus squawked, “I thought that you were making stuff up! Hades, why didn’t you say something earlier?!”

“Because I was concerned about the man potentially planning your future vivisection?” Hades drawled, grunting when Prometheus grabbed his hand and started dragging him off towards the panel room, “Ugh,  _ Prom _ …”

“Stop dragging your feet, Hades! We’ll be late!”

“ _ Uuuuugh _ !”

**Author's Note:**

> yes, yet again, another multi-chaptered fic. It's a curse, I know, I know. 
> 
> Anyways, this was originally going to be a oneshot, but I just kept writing and writing and writing and now im sitting here with a monster of a fic and am like hm maybe i should. break this up into. chapters??? so yeah, here you go. first chapter is deceptively light, the real fun starts after that ;)


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